SHOCK!
by LolliliciousLolly
Summary: A collection of Lolly's insanity. DON'T READ unless you're well on the way to losing it, yourself. Slashy humour, foot fetishes, murder-by-pillow...and Fabio. What more could you want? (Title change. Suits it better, hehe.)
1. Emily's Ecstasy

**Dedicated, with love, to General Kenobi, now called "Vader's Mistress."**

**snigger**

**Sunshine told me to post it up here. So . . . here we are.**

**Inspired by Emily jokily suggesting creating a "Kissing General Kenobi" writing competition on the MCBC.**

**MUAHAHAH!**

**Love Lolly.**

**P.S. Em, I hope you like this almost as much as the Vader/Indiana piccie I made you.**

8 -

'Hey. Paul.'

Paul turned to look at her. 'Uh . . . do I know you?'

'Hmph. You SHOULD. I'm like, the person who gives you, oh, I dunno, the HOTTEST PORTRAYAL EVER.'

Paul winced. 'Um . . . sorry, not ringing any bells.'

Lolly tossed her hair in fury. 'Fine then. Be like that. Go kiss some feet.'

He frowned. 'What the f - '

'Look,' Lolly ran back, 'I need a favour.'

Paul gave her pointed look. 'You just told me to kiss feet - '

'Yeah, foot fetish, we all know about it,' Lolly babbled, 'anyway. Listen. I need you to do something. You see . . . I have this really anti-social friend called Emily. She'll never _ever_ lose the big V in a million years, and I doubt that any tangoing of the tongue will come anywhere before the age of eighty. She's just that pathetic. So yeah. Can you give her a kissy for me?'

Paul looked at Lolly, horrified, 'you want me to kiss some wannabe spinster?'

'She's fourteen! Look, just pretend she's a foot. Then it should be _easy_.'

Paul's horror was further increased by a look of disgust. 'How DARE - '

'Look, buddy,' Lolly threatened in dangerous tones, grabbing the scruff of his shirt and yanking him close, 'Either pash the brains out of my little chum, or I will . . . ' Lolly pauses for maximum effect, '_make you gay in Flashlight._

Shock!

'YOU WOULDN'T!' Paul gasped pitifully.

'Of yes,' Lolly's face creased into an evil grin, 'I would. And I'd make you gay . . . with Jesse.'

'HOW COULD YOU BE SO CRUEL?' he wailed, falling to his knees. Tears streamed out of his eyes, 'NO, NO! PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHING!'

Lolly perked up. 'Cool. Snog Emily then.'

'Except that,' Paul said quickly.

Lolly gave an overly large sigh, and then began imitating her fingers to be writing on a keyboard, saying in breathy tones, ' _And then, Paul slid of his boxers, eyeing Jesse with the utmost seductiveness . . . "Are you ready for me big boy?" he asked the cowboy coyly, "Because after you've gone Slater, nothing's greater - " '_

'STOP!" Paul begged in octaves higher than his own, 'PLEASE!'

Lolly shrugged. 'I could have said, "_Once you've gone Paul, nothing's as small_ " - '

'I'LL KISS YOUR STUPID FRIEND!' he spat.

Lolly beamed. 'Okay. Just . . . you know, make it look like you like it,' she asked nervously.

Paul drew a breath. 'You are by far the most disgusting human being to ever walk this earth.'

'Shut up Slater,' Lolly snapped, 'At least I'm not a figment of Meg Cabot's imagination.'

Paul choked on his reply. 'Touché,' he said after a moment of thought. 'You fight dirty.'

She smirked. 'This, coming from the guy who blackmails Suze to go out with him,' she rolled her eyes.

Paul sniggered proudly. 'Good times . . . '

8 -

Emily lay on her bed, unsuspecting of the horrible act that was about to occur. Her chest rose and fell in her gentle sleeping. Suddenly . . . the strangest sensation was felt somewhere on her body . . .

She giggled. 'Oh, stop it . . . ' for a dog was obviously licking her feet . . .

8 -

'Done,' Paul said to Lolly.

THE END.


	2. Aina's Agony

_KISSING SHARK GIRL  
By Mystique Angelique,  
who is pleasantly drunk  
at the current time._

Lolly read her reviews with a blank face.

'PAUL!' she yodeled, 'What's this about you licking Emily's feet!'

Paul, being a fictional character, magically appeared by her side.

'U-um,' he mumbled, 'It was just . . . Lolly, her feet were so _nice_ – '

'How DARE you snog the footsies of my friend!' Lolly shrilled in indignation. 'Paul Michael Slater, you are by far the most uncooperative fictional asshole that the pen shall ever meet. Your name is not fit to be scrawled on paper by an author.'

'It's a good thing you're not an author then,' he snapped back.

Lolly went rather quiet.

Paul realized his mistake. 'No, I meant – '

A loud sniff came from Lolly's snoz.

Paul rolled his eyes. 'Good God,' he muttered. 'Look, I didn't mean it, God, please, just don't start crying, or I think I might kill myself – '

'WAAAAHHH! WAAAAAAAAHHHHH! BOOOO HOOOO!' Lolly screamed in pseudo-woe, peaking up to check if he was still watching, 'WAAAAAAAH – '

'Oh shut up,' he begged. 'Look. Okay, fine. I'll kiss her. Not on her feet, even though they are – ' his voice became breathy in passion, 'undeniably _sexy_ – ' he coughed. 'Just for the love of all things evil, don't cry – '

Lolly smirked into her hands, and then propped her head up, looking up at him with crocodile tears. 'Good,' she said. 'Only, I don't want you to be the one to do the kissing.'

Paul quirked a brow. 'Um.'

'And I don't want Emily to be the recipient of this kiss, either,' Lolly went on happily, forgetting her moment of desperate anguish, 'I think that Jesse kisses better than you anyway.'

_'What? That loser? How the HELL can some COWBOY be a better kisser than m – '_

'Suze told me,' Lolly said simply. 'Now, winged monkey, BRING HIM TO ME.'

Paul groaned, and with a flash of light that is only possible because Lolly is writing this and she is insane and needs psychiatric help, Jesse appeared in all of his Spanish sexiness. Corny Latino music began playing, like when Antonio Banderas enters any room in any scene of _Mask of Zorro._

'Buenos dias,' he says in an overly exaggerated tone.

'Cut the crap,' Lolly says. 'Go kiss my friend Aina, and make it look real.'

Jesse is – my God. We've changed tenses. Oopsie – Jesse WAS stunned. 'Be unfaithful to my _querida?_ It's SCANDALOUS!'

'Whatever. She kissed Paul. Big deal. Now, Aina really needs some Latino lovin' – '

'She WHAT?'

'Listen,' Lolly said dangerously, jabbing a finger into his chest, 'Either you kiss my friend, or I will tell Suze that you're having it off with Felix Diego.'

'No!' Jesse whispered in horror, 'She can't know!'

. . . 'Um.'

'She was kidding, Rico.'

Everyone stared.

. . . A lot.

Jesse laughed uncomfortably. 'Oh, erm, I mean, just – hahaha, of course there is NOTHING going on between myself and my murderer, hahaha, how could you THINK that we use chains and whips? Honestly, I don't even LIKE leather, I can't help if it makes my perfect butt look sensational, and it's not even MY fault that Diego is partial to the ass-less variety of leather get-ups – '

There was a hacking cough of distraction, and Lolly and Paul backed away from Jesse, rather quickly.

'Just do it,' Lolly tried to keep from gagging.

8 -

It was late at night. Aina was, and I quote, "Looking at MCBC, checking some sites," end quote, Jesse came to her in a terrified daze. Susannah could NOT know of the kinky affair he was having with – oh, no, no . . .

So, he puckered up his lips, and leant towards Aina, ready to kiss her . . .

. . . But fell right through her.

He swore in English.

SHOCK!

'Aaah, damn it.'

Stupid dead guy . . . pfft . . .

8 -

Diego awaited Jesse, lying seductively across a bed. 'Oh, Hector . . . how I crave you . . . Hector . . . '

8 -

THE END.


	3. Stephanie's Stigma

KISSING STEPHANIE SUNSHINE

Lolly sat at her computer again, rather annoyed. Jesse de Silva had NOT done what he was told. And last night's szechwan from the Chinese Take-Away around the corner was not agreeing with her bowels too well, making poor, dear, sweet, innocent Lolly get up-close-and-personal with the downstairs toilet.

Oh, bother.

It had been a topsy turvy night, dreaming that she was Sabrina the Teenage Witch and that her deputy principal Ms WILL GO UNNAMED IN CASE IT'S TRUE were forcing rabbits to poop all over the oval grass to make it grow more, and were keeping said thousand rabbits locked up.

And also, Lolly looking for a 'THE MEDIATOR' tattoo, but the tattoo parlour only having a Princess Diaries one.

SHOCK.

So, with a dry throat, she scowled at the computer screen, seeing Jesse's incompetence, and Paul's love of Ze Tings Velo' Ze Ankelles.

What accent THAT was in, no one will know.

She was rather annoyed with Paul. So was Emily. But as Em says in response, 'Once you've seen Paul's down under, you'll let loose a roar of thunder.'

And Lolly's spiteful, 'Once you've gone Jesse, nothing's as messy.'

(GOD DAMN IT.)

'Honestly,' she snapped. 'You just can't get good fictional help these days. If they're not off making love to General Kenobi's feet, they're doing so with Spanish murdering turds.

Readers all go, 'Eww.'

Right on time.

'So,' Lolly said, 'I must call in a favour from someone so trust-worthy, someone so loveable, someone so loyal and hot, and someone so wonderful that no Kissing Mission could probably go wrong . . . _JOHNNY DEPP_.'

The phone rang. 'Lolly, JD's not available. He's filming Willy Wonka still.'

'Shit,' said Lolly.

Well. Of COURSE she had back-up. With the stylish swing of her long, black locks, (a wig,) she was the epitome of poise and grace. 'WELL,' she cried, 'I must get my SECOND choice.

Again, with a lightning flash and an overly exaggerated flatulence noise, there appeared the sexiest, handsomest, hottest, cutest, loveliest –

- Max, the dog.

Lolly paled. 'You're freakin' joking me.'

She blinked. Max yawned, and then dived at her, burying his head in her crotch.

Again, the audience goes, 'Eww.'

It's a dog thing.

Lolly screamed, and with her remaining Sabrina the Teenage Witch powers from last night's dream, she makes Max turn to oozing pus.

Yum.

Panting, Lolly crawls back to her computer chair. 'This is why directors don't work with animals,' she said breathily to her gentle readers.

THEN. With a brilliant Einsteinian idea, a little light bulb popped above her head for emphasis. 'EUREKA!' she said, 'I'VE GOT IT.'

And within the next ten minutes, she has a very luscious new kissing candidate.

The one and only . . .

Father Dominic.

'So, let me get this straight, child,' he frowned. 'You want me to . . . '

'Kiss my friend,' she said as if her were simple.

Oh but he is, Lolly.

'Am not,' he said. 'But yes, you see, there is a problem there . . . I have sworn my life to God. And not sins of the flesh. I can not know the touch of a woman. It is not Christian.'

'But you're Catholic,' Lolly said.

'Silence,' he hissed.

Lolly shook her head sadly. 'You've never had sex, have you.'

Father Dominic paled, looked around shiftily, and then began belting out 'Alleluia,' Mr-Bean style.

Whoa. A sixty something year old virgin. That's gotta sting.

Oh well. Time to threaten the priest.

'Listen, Jesus,' she narrowed her eyes, 'If you don't kiss my friend, then I think that the archbishop will by privy to the fact that . . . you're actually Jewish,' she hissed in bullying tones, her face hideous with aggression.

Father Dom went very pale. 'Oh dear,' he said. 'Oh dear Lord, no – '

'Then kiss my friend,' Lolly smirked lolliliciously.

'And . . . whom might this friend be?'

'An inanimate object.'

'Really?'

'No.'

'Oh.'

'My friend is . . . ' A mysterious drumroll was played from somewhere on set, 'Stephanie.'

Readers go, 'Um . . . who the hell?'

Lolly barely knows.

'You know. _Sunshine_.'

'Oh,' readers go happily in recognition.

Reluctantly, Father Dom went to fulfil his sinful task.

8 -

It was late at night. The lights were out. The moon was hiding. Stephanie lay in her bed, asleep. Suddenly . . . she heard a noise. She stopped. Nothing. She relaxed. Then . . . AGAIN. A footstep, somewhere outside her window. Terrified, Stephanie turned over in her bed, hiding beneath the covers in an imitation of slumber.

A figure ambled awkwardly through the window, dark and in shadow . . .

Stephanie poised, her hands upon her pillow . . .

The figure stepped into the room, looking for his victim . . . he saw the quilt rising and falling on the bed. He stepped over to claim his kiss –

WHEN STEPHANIE JUMPED UP, armed with the eve r menacing pillow. 'TAKE – THAT – YOU – STUPID – LOSER!' Whack, whack, WHACK!

'OW!' shrieked Father Dominic, 'Please – stop, I didn't mean to – '

'GET OUT OF MY ROOM! I WILL NOT BE PERVED ON! I'M CALLING THE COPS. AND OPRAH. AND JERRY SPRINGER TOO. AND GEORGE BUSH. NOW GET – ' whack – 'OUT – ' WHACK – ' OF MY ROOOOOOOOOM!'

Lying almost dead on the floor, Father Dom twitched, his glasses askew.

Steph finally recognized the person whom she'd been beating the crap out of.

'Shit,' she said.

Poor Father Dominic.

She heaved him out of her window, and muttered a heartfelt 'Sorry!' when he landed in a robe-y heap in the rose bushes, thorns sticking into his holy backside.

Dom crawled out of the roses, and began cursing as badly as priests like him can curse.

'Oh, gosh, oh dear, oh my, oh . . . ' AND A BIG NO-NO, 'DARN it!'

SHOCK!

And then the priest swore to break the sixth commandment.

'Lolly . . . will . . .pay . . . '

THE END.


	4. Twins' Triumph

It was after church that Lolly again returned to her computer.

Although she was, in fact, meant to be doing her volcano project and her mother would surely scold her horribly for procrastinating, Lolly blissfully read through her reviews, learning only that Father Dominic, the poor soul, was now incapable of moving anything below his waist, having been paralysed be Stephanie's lethal pillow.

How rude.

Sunshine, SHAME ON YOU.

So. You'd think that after a nice episode of Jesus-ness, Lolly would be feeling rather Christian, and would write a nice, boring and polite instalment of Kissing the MCBC?

Well, you'd be wrong.

Quite wrong.

So, with poor, dear Father Dominic now possibly a quadriplegic, (hahaha, go Stephie,) Jesse seemingly homosexual with his murdering foe, and Paul how naming each of his toes, (I believe that the big toe on his right was Bobbalina, and the left was Paulie-kah-muffin,) Lolly had nothing else to do but call in yet another favour.

And that would be in the form of none other than . . .

Adam McTavish.

Of course, Lolly had to ring a 1800 number to get to him, in his new business.

_Fabio Impersonators Inc._

SHOCK!

'Hello? Can I have Adam McTavish, please?'

'Certainly. One hour, or all night?'

'Um,' said Lolly uncertainly, 'Er . . . all . . . night?'

'Certainly. Leopard skin or leather?'

'Uhhhhhhhhhh . . . '

'Certainly. And what flavour wax do you want? Strawberry, or tropical.'

'UHHHHHHHH – '

'Very well. That will amount to two hundred.'

'No, no – um, I'm not – I mean, I don't want – '

'Miss. Our Adam is very popular. With his inflata-Fabio suit, he's the spitting image. So pay up, or piss off.'

'Um…just tell him that Suze Simon is calling for him,' Lolly lied quickly.

'Please hold.'

_I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt _began playing.

"I'm – too sexy for my body – too sexy for my body – the way I'm disco daaaaaaancing –"

'I'm Elma Fudd, you know what I mean, and I shake my little tush on the catwalk – ' Lolly began singing vaguely, when a perky sounding Adam picked up.

'SUZE!' he cried gleefully, 'Oh, how I've waited for the day when you would require my . . . services . . . '

'Actually, it's not Suze,' Lolly said flatly. 'My name is Lolly, and I believe that you owe me, Adam.'

'Um.'

'In Flashlight, you see, I think you're getting more sex than you're ever going to get through your F. I. Inc. So, you're going to pop down here, free of charge. Right now.'

'Um,' he said again. 'Okay. Let me go inflate my suit.'

8 -

Five hours later, a Fat Bastard look-a-like ambled through Lolly's bedroom door. The plastic muscles gleamed in the light.

'Listen, lose the suit,' Lolly rolled her eyes.

Adam lost the suit, looking dejected. His skimpy little frame stood in the corner of the room, as he crossed his arms nervously.

'Okay,' Lolly said. 'This is how it's going to work. You're going to kiss my friends.'

Adam brightened. 'Might they be by the name of CeeCee Webb?'

'No.'

'Oh,' he replied. 'Well. Uh, I don't think I can – '

'Of COURSE you can,' she snapped. 'Or . . . ' she leant closer to him, 'I'll tell Cee you keep a photo of Kelly Prescott under your pillow.'

He paled. '_You wouldn't_,' he gasped in horror.

Lolly's smirk went lollilicious. 'Oh, wouldn't I? Try me, Sparky.'

Adam scowled. 'Oh, all right. Just – ' he looked around furtively, 'Don't tell CeeCee . . . _that_.'

'I'm glad we've come to an agreement,' Lolly sniffed.

8 -

The unsuspecting victims of Adam McTavish sat quietly, practicing their accordions together. The sound was so monstrous that surrounding birdies were dropping dead off their perches.

When Adam, in his uniform leopard loincloth, climbed up the window, he cried, 'ARDA, ALDA, LET DOWN YOUR HAIR.'

They threw a hare out the window.

Nicole and Jasmine, aka, Arda Silverlace and Alda Rethe, ceased their hideous attempts of music.

'Whomever could that be?' Arda said to Alda.

'I do not know,' Alda said to Arda.

'Are you sure?' Arda said to Alda.

'Quite sure,' Alda said to Arda.

. . . Lolly's getting a headache.

The girls rushed to the window. 'My my! It's Adam McTavish!'

'Are you sure it's not Tarzan?'

'I CAN BE HIS JAAAAAAAAANE!' Jasmine cried happily.

Nicole stared at her.

Jasmine shut up.

The both through out a sheet for Adam to climb up on. Which was weird, because they were on the first floor.

Once in their room, Adam sprawled on the floor panting. 'Okay,' he said, I have to kiss – '

He looked up.

'**_TWINS_!' **HE CRIED GLEEFULLY.He laughed, jumped up, rearranged the contents of his loincloth, and began flexing his lack-of-muscles.

'Should have kept the suit,' he muttered.

Alda and Arda giggled, much like the Japanese twins off Austin Powers 3, whom Lolly is blatantly ripping off. Except that Alda and Arda aren't kinky names like Fook Mi and Fook Yu.

Sigh.

'THANK YOU LOLLY!' he yelled in ecstasy up to the author. 'THANK YOU! **_TWINS_**!'

Alda said to Arda, 'Oh joy! Finally! An audience!'

Adam's smile slid off. 'A – A what?'

'An audience of course,' Arda said in blissful agreement. The lead the nearly naked weirdo to a seat.

And for the rest of the night, cruelly serenaded him with their horrid imitations of accordion playing.

What? Did you think that Lolly was going to make them have a thr – **_THE_ END.**

Aaah, but wait. It was barely 3am, when who should randomly stop by at Alda and Arda's Hawaiian residence, but CeeCee?

'Oh, hi Jas and Nic, I was just – '

Her eyes landed on Adam, who was laying on the floor.

In but a leopard skin loincloth.

CeeCee swelled in rage. 'I THOUGHT YOU WERE GIVING UP POLE DANCING!' SHE SHRIEKED AT ADAM.

He sat up, terrified. 'What? No, CeeCee, wait, I – it was Lolly, she – no, I didn't – we didn't – there were no poles involved – '

CeeCee blew him up with a weapon of mass destruction.

In the debris, all that was left of Mr McTavish was a single finger . . .

_(Maybe he's an Animagus)_

**The REAL end.**


	5. Lillita's Lust

Lolly, once again, rather annoyed at the fact that fanfiction alerts were failing her, sat down and decided to write yet ANOTHER annoying chapter of the overly-hated Kissing the MCBC.

I mean, how gross is that?

To physically kiss the Meg Cabot Book Club?

And anyway, so far it was only that darn Emily who got kissed.

And not even on the lips.

So, you see, this wasn't really going very well.

Lolly, who was running out of men to use, and was thinking of resorting to Sister Ernestine, suddenly realized that there were LOTS more fish in the sea!

GOODIE.

So, she grabbed the jock-strap of the character whom she wished to summon, and, throwing it into a bubbling, boiling cauldron, called upon the forces of darkness and within moments, Bradley Ackerman stood in her presence.

A thing of evil if there ever was on.

The ripe smell sure indicated so.

Lolly, tossing him some deodorant, said, whilst blocking her nose, 'Heya Dopey. You're gonna do a little favour for me.'

Dopey scratched his Dopey Jr. indignantly. 'Aww, man,' he snapped, 'What is your PROBLEM, dude? I was like this close to getting in Kelly Pr – '

Lolly didn't even want to know. She sprayed some of _her_ deodorant at him, and he squealed as it hit him full force in the eyes.

'Shut up. I don't want to know about your sex-life. We ALL KNOW that it's detachable, anyway.'

Either that or he pumped it up like Ben Stiller did on Dodgeball.

Dopey narrowed his eyes at her. 'Stop stalking me. What the hell do you want, anyway? I don't think you understand, babe. I was about to get LAI – '

'Yes,' Lolly snapped, throwing her cauldron at him in annoyance. It bounced off of his head with a resonating bong – onomatopoeia, NOT a drug reference – and the contents burnt his big toe and shrivelling it up on the spot, saving him from EVER being attacked by Paul Slater's lustful foot-lovin' lips, 'I quite understand. But the point I'm saying is, I'm getting desperate now. I can't reuse characters – it's tacky. So, you'll have to do. And – ' Lolly paused. 'You were planning on having sex with Kelly Prescott in . . . those?'

Dopey looked down, regarding his neon yellow wrestling short-short-short-short-shorts in confusion. 'They're sexy,' he protested. His pink tank top hugged his chest tightly, possibly suffocating him, in his efforts to pronounce his sadly impressive muscles.

Lolly blinked.

Twice.

Okay, about nine times.

'Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight,' she said finally. 'Well, Dopes, I got a little task for you.'

'Will it give me a boner?' he asked eagerly.

Lolly, not being aware of the hotness of her victim yet, said slowly, 'Um . . . no . . . '

Dopey's eyes fell in disinterest. 'Screw this, then. KELLY can give me a b – '

'**SIT DOWN, GOD DAMN IT. ARE YOU _RETARDED_? DO AS YOU'RE TOLD, YOU SILLY FREAK!**' Lolly screeched in phenomenal fury.

Dopey scuffled to sit down, quivering in fear.

Lolly breathed. '_Thank_ you, Dope-lodocus. Now, you're going to do me a favour, or I'm going to let the entire wrestling team know a little something about _you_, Bradley Ackerman.'

'Well, what if I want to walk out of here right now?' he snapped.

'You can't,' Lolly said.

'Why not?'

'Because I'm the author and I'm writing everything you're doing and saying.'

Dopey's dumb face wrinkled in confusion. 'Huh?'

Oh yeah. Poor guy. No brain, much strain.

And anyway. Once you've gone Brad, nothing's as bad.

Hehehe. Lolly giggled. She made that up herself.

'Well, anyway. So, yeah.'

Dopey glared, screwing up his face unattractively. 'Oh yeah? What the hell do YOU know about me that the wrestling team would want to know?' he laughed mockingly.

Lolly waited for his chuckling to cease.

'Oh, I dunno, only that you're a virgin, and that you're currently obsessed with Daniel Radcliffe,' Lolly said boredly.

Dopey went still, and Dopey Jr. went into hiding.

' . . . _No_,' he said in horror, 'No, you – how did you _know_?'

Lolly smiled. 'Because I'm an omniscient author. I know all. I see all. I hear all. And among my hearings, was no screaming of Kelly Prescott's ecstasy.'

'Shut up,' Dopey said.

Lolly went on evilly, 'And I know that you've watched Prisoner of Azkaban, over and over and over and over again – '

'SHUT UUUUUUP!' he wailed, crumbling to his knees, and hammering on the floor. 'FINE. I LOVE DANIEL RADCLIFFE. I WANT TO BE WITH HIM. IF HE'D ONLY REPLY MY FRIGGING FANMAIL, I MIGHT STOP STALKING HIM. BUT WILL HE LISTEN? NO! HE JUST KEEPS GOING ON ABOUT HIPPOGRIFFS AND THE DARK LORD, not sparing me a moment of his time . . . his love,' Dopey ended sadly. 'If he only knew how much I lo – '

He stopped, looking up. Then he looked around furtively, and back at the widely smirking Lolly, who was sitting comfortably on her swivel chair.

It was the pimples that lost her sophistication points.

But shut up.

'So, we have an agreement then, Dopey-poo?' she asked sweetly.

Brad hung his head, in shame.

'Goodie,' Lolly beamed. 'I _love_ winning.

8 -

Lolly's victim of choice sat in her room, awaiting her turn of being officially Kissed.

No, seriously. She'd full on prepared. She was ready to get Kissed by Paul. She had everything planned. She would not think that Paul was trying to enter her room to perv on her. (If so, she wouldn't mind.) She would NOT attack her Paul with a pillow. She would not subject her Paul to accordion practice. She would NOT not notice that Paul was trying to Kiss her. And she would NOT mind if he pashed her feet.

Which was the plan, anyway.

So there stood Lillita.

In a foot costume.

No.

Really.

She was dressed from head to toe . . . as a foot.

Five toes.

Toenails.

FLESH coloured.

Her little arms stuck out the sides of her costume, as she awaited Paul.

She was a Big Foot.

She wanted to turn Paul on the best way she knew how.

He'd have a fetish with HER.

But come on, guys.

SHE WAS DRESSED UP AS A FOOT.

SNORT. HAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

(Lolly finds this rather amusing to visualize.)

Lillita was ready. She was set. She was waiting . . . for her beloved . . . Paul.

So when the lump that was Dopey Ackerman flopped through her window, landing with a THUNK onto her floor, the Big Foot saw red.

And she promptly stepped on him with her, erm, Big Foot.

And squashed him into a Dopey paste.

'LOLLY!' she screeched, 'HOW COULD YOU? THIS SUIT COST EIGHTY BUCKS!'

And now she had Brad's guts on it.

Oops.

**THE END.**


	6. Sarah's Stupor

**My victim isn't as involved as usual, I'm afraid. You'll have to forgive me.**

**Love Lolly.**

**Dedicated to Sarah, (obviously) and _Brat_. **

**- smirk - **

**8 -**

It was a sad, sad morning . . .

No one mourned the fictional death of our bellowed steroid-pumping Dopey . . . his memory was washed away down Lillita's sink as she endeavoured to clean the gut-stained Big Foot costume before she had to return it to the Foot Fetishists Anonymous building. Then she bitterly removed all the letters from her toenails that she'd painted on the previous day to say PAULISSEXY

Fool.

But even sadder than that, is – LOLLY GOT WOKEN UP AT 6AM!

HOW RUDE IS THAT, I ASK? I MEAN, THE NERVE OF HER FATHER AND BROTHER GOING OUT TO GOLF SO EARLY AND MAKING SUCH A RACKET – why, it's an OUTRAGE.

Lolly plotted to shoot her dad and bro –

Um, anyway.

So. Now, with another new chapter to write, Lolly found she had a little problem.

No victim.

A character planned, but . . . no one to victimize, terrorize, and horrify.

Darn.

So, scouring the MCBC, she finally found her prey . . .

With her telepathy that she only has because she's the author of this God damned story, she used the powers of her mind (which in reality, couldn't even bend a toothpick with her lack of intelligence) to contact . . .

Bill Gates' house.

The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And rangandrangandrangandRANGANDRANGANDRANG –

'Hello, you have reached – '

'Whatever,' Lolly snapped to the receptionist lady, 'Get me David Ackerman.'

'But why miss, he is in a meeting with Mr Gates. They are talking about how they are going to bomb the creator of Apple Macs – '

'While I FULLY support that idea,' Lolly spat, 'No really, I do. Apples suck, and couldn't be fit to wipe one's hiney with, I really need David.'

There was a lot of sighing. 'Well, all right. Please hold.'

_I Wanna Be an American Idiot_ started playing.

Lolly was more partial to Boulevard of Broken Dreams, if truth be told.

Or Bohemian Rhapsody –

'Hello?' greeted the squeaky, nerdiness of the D.A himself.

Lolly beamed. 'Why, David. What a pleasure to finally catch you. How's Shannon?'

'She's great,' he said eagerly, 'I taught her how to dissect a cow's eye yesterday – '

'Charming,' Lolly burbled. 'Well, David, don't I have a treat for you.'

'Um.'

'Come to my bedroom, over here down under, and you will be filled in.'

'Um,' David went again.

Lolly scoffed. 'Aren't you even going to ASK how things are down under?'

Doc began to sweat. 'Actually, I – '

'Doc, get your little geeky butt here or I'll burn your laptop and get Max to pee on the ashes,' Lolly snarled.

Doc hung up rather rapidly, and with then, by the powers of all things lollilicious, he was called forth to Lolly's computer room down in the wonderful world of Disney.

I mean, Australia.

'Doc,' Lolly beamed in delight, 'Aww, I see your hair's getting redder.'

Doc just stood there in his high-collared navy blue sweater, and dark grey work pants.

. . . He was twelve years old.

Geek.

'That observation would prove to be t-true,' he said. His LAPTOP had been threatened, how would YOU feel?

'Listen . . . Doc,' Lolly's smile widened evilly. 'You're going to do me a teeny, tiny, slightly large, enormous favour.'

Doc blinked. 'Um.'

'You see, Doc,' Lolly stood up, walking towards him slowly, her gargantuan butt swaying and knocking things over as she did so, 'I have a friend who, like me, has never been kissed.'

'Um,' Doc said, 'If I may be polite, I don't see how this has to do with me – '

'SHUT THE HELL UP, GEEKATRON,' Lolly fumed, making Doc lose his courage to speak.

Lolly's pleasant air returned. 'So . . . where was I? Oh yes. My darling friend would suit you so well! She's nerdy, and cute and I believe her hair matches your own. And I think that you're going to regret it if you don't consent to what I propose.'

Doc gulped. 'I believe that the general public would refer to this as blackmail,' he stuttered.

'The general public can go – '

Look, it's 6AM, OKAY? I like Lolly is PERFECTLY WITHIN HER RIGHTS TO BE PISSED OFF. SO THERE.

Teehee.

Doc was shaking like a leaf. 'Well, in that case, I think it would be best if I left you – '

'Kiss my friend, and I won't show your mother all of those porn sights that you look up on your laptop,' Lolly hissed menacingly.

Doc went dead still.

'_You wouldn't dare,_' he squealed. 'I just – Lolly, "A Night in Paris" is just so captivating. Have you seen the length of Miss Hilton's legs? I measured them to scale from a photo! They are approximately – '

'HAVE YOU SEEN HER NOSE?' Lolly thundered.

Doc started crying. 'But – but your friend is probably attractive, and she'd – Lolly, she'd never kiss someone like me – I'm just – I want Mummy.'

Lolly said soothingly, 'Oh Doctagon, you underestimate yourself. After all, once you've gone Dave, you'll never want to bathe,' she said teasingly.

His eyes widened in hope. '. . . Really?'

'No. Not really,' Lolly sighed. 'Now hop to it, four-eyes.'

8 -

Doc was roaming all around town, looking for Sarah's house. He actually stopped in on the wrong one, at first, seeing Brat secretly painting her ice-blue "I LOVE PAUL" rosettes.

But finally, he came to the correct house, where DancinSweethart was blissfully brushing her red hair, singing to herself _The Twelve Days of Christmas_.

Up to:

"Nine Paulies Dancing,

Eight Susies Milking,

Seven Jesses Swimming,

Six Spikes a'laying

Fooooooooooooo-_ooooooot_ Feh-tiiiiiiiiiiiiish . . . "

. . . And it was love.

Doc, with as much grace as a constipated hippopotamus, climbed her window in awe.

Once there, he called, 'Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarah . . . myyyyyyyy _preeeeeeeeeeeeeeccciossssssssss . . . _'

DS turned from her grooming, and blinked in alarm. 'Doc? 'she asked in awe. 'What the – but – but I thought you were fictional – '

'Well, that would be technically true,' he shrugged, doing all within his power to capture her heart. 'But you see, due the psychological trauma that our creator, Lolly is currently going through, she is subconsciously creating outlets for her bridled creativity that is being so oppressively stifled in today's society of such high expectations, and due to said mental oppression, we figments of her imagination are projected to seem real to the readers of her insanity,' he explained in his best I'm-not-Einstein . . . honest-no-really-I'm-not voice.

DancinSweethart blinked again. 'I'm real,' she said. 'When's Paul coming? I want Paul. He's hot. He's – '

'Aaaah, I can see why Paul would be your natural preference,' David said knowledgeably, 'But you see, it is I who would in fact produce more impressive offspring than he. Though he is a male specimen of undeniable attraction – my brother, Bradley, for instance, is magnetically drawn to him – and his apparent intelligence is desired by many, I also have qualities that would be fine if we were to reproduce,' he said, 'For my intelligence if beyond my years, indicating that my chromosomes, though unimpressive in physical attributes, would make for a better father to any children we may have in the future. Our spawn would be intellectual and gifted in all things of the mind, and plus, although apparently nerdy, I can be a tiger in the bedroom,' the twelve year old added matter-of-factly.

Sarah just blinked some more.

'Um,' she said.

'I see why you might be stunned,' David laughed expressively, 'Yes, I know that my superior smarts can intimidate the – ' he giggled, '- _girls_ that I talk to . . . but we should get over that quite quickly, and get right to it, if we are hoping to start our race of super-intelligence.'

Holy crap.

Lolly has no part in this characterization. Doc has seriously possessed Lolly's fingertips. Lolly is staring at the screen, willing to obey Doc's every command . . .

'And hence, with all of the points made above,' David smiled, attempting to seductively drag his hand though his crew-cut red hair, 'I believe that we ought to kill off all of the lesser-intelligence beings. I've researched ways to do so on the internet – without being caught – in between, you know, my Thursday night pornography viewing and spying on Suze with my binoculars and mirrors. A young lad like myself can't JUST know every single element of the periodic table,' he smiled at Sarah, believing this to be rather adequate foreplay.

Sarah sighed. 'David, it's just not going to work.'

Doc paused in shock. 'What? B-b-b-b-but – but you're a RED HEAD.'

She winced a little. 'I'm blissfully addicted to Sleepy,' she said.

. . . SHOCK!

'But – no!' David cried. 'No! Not my own brother! He is one of these lesser intelligence beings I spoke of. He _must_ be destroyed – '

Sarah sighed. 'Something about that whole pizza-boy thing really gets me in,' she said dreamily.

The door rang. Sarah answered it in giddy thrills. It was Jake with her pizza. His doped out face stared vacantly into hers.

Oh, young love . . .

(So influenced by drugs.)

Tut tut, Sarah.

David was rather traumatized. He left Sarah and Jake doing ever it is that possible pot-heads and their not-so-fictional girlfriends do (maybe, um, eat the pizza?)

'I will leave, then,' he said, 'For I cannot obviously win your affections in this fraternal battle of lust.'

God, this guy needed help. Poor little nerd.

As he ventured back to Lolly's sadly, having been rejected, he totally ignored as he past Brat's house, while she was in her passionate, fiery make-out with Paul Slater, as he chomped lustfully on her feet.

After telling Lolly that his mission was incomplete, he went and consoled himself by watching Paris Hilton's lovely flick a couple of times.

'Aaaaaaaaah . . . I guess homosexuality is the way to go,' he muttered glumly.

And called Bill Gates again, arranging a time and place.

**THE END.**


	7. Nicole's Nightmare

Lolly was not in the best of moods. After her school camp, she had not showered for three days straight, and due to lack of washing, now had a Bermuda triangle of pimples on her cheek, making her look like . . . I dunno, like her face was the aurora borealis or something.

Who KNEW pimples came in those colours.

So whatever. With the sniff of her nose, Lolly boredly stopped trying to write Flashlight. It OBVIOUSLY wasn't going to come out tonight. Writer's constipation can do that to you. You try to force out the writing . . . all you get is a sore butt and The Poo That Would Not Flush.

But that wasn't the point. It had been yonks since the torture – I mean, uh, kissing pleasure – of one of Lolly's good MCBC friends.

And plus, there was a handsome beau who was on the verge of homosexuality out there. Lolly needed to act fast before females everywhere lost his attraction COMPLETELY.

With a lollilicious sigh – that always means bad news, ladies – she sniggered, having fully developed her plan.

Because Lolly is just so amazingly hot and talented and possesses a freakish variety of magical powers – including on-command-orgasms – she was able to, of course, dematerialize to her location in question. In a radiant shower of vomit-green light, she landed in . . .

. . . A jail cell.

'Purrrrfect,' she purred. And meowed.

Looking around curiously, she fixed her boobies so they looked all seductive. Ha. And you wonder why people always do what Lolly says . . . foolish mortals.

'Oh, Miiiiiiiiiiichael,' she sang out.

From the corner of the jail cell, a shaggy, pasty, unkempt face looked up at her hollowly. His eyes widened in interest. I mean, that was a _really_ low cut shirt . . .

Because Lolly is like, such a slut.

Snort.

'Uhhh,' he mumbled, 'How'd you get in h – '

'No questions,' Lolly said, dominatrix-y. 'I'll do the talking, big boy.'

'Look,' Michael Meducci said slowly, 'They won't even let me use my Apple Mac in here. I have no Chem. to study. No Physics. My brain is fried. My nerdiness is disintegrating. All I have going for me are my lickeable abs. I'm currently a sexually confused male with genitals that are desperately craving Suze Simon at the moment. I have not seen a female in months. You're probably a bit fat for me – '

HEY!

' – but beggars can't be choosers. It's either you or . . . Kroch.'

Erm . . .

'Who's Kroch?' Lolly asked warily.

Meducci sighed. 'He wants me bad, I can tell. Gang leader. But I refuse to become anyone's ass-monkey. At least, not until I am positive that I am indeed, gay. Prison is tough, fat stranger. And sex is plentiful, providing that you bat for the other team.'

Lolly was starting to severely regret her decision. 'Look,' she said, 'I think that I've made a bad choice . . . I mean, I doubt that my latest victim will really enjoy a fictional kiss from a guy who not only murdered four people, but isn't quite certain where his sexual status lies. So – '

'KISS?' Michael stopped dead, his tattered prison uniform glaring greyly at Little Miss Lollykins, 'A _girl_?'

Ugh. ONCE YOU'VE GONE MIKE, YOU'LL BECOME A DYKE.

. . . Or ONCE YOU'VE GONE MEDUCCI, YOU'LL NEED A PAULIE-SMOOCHIE.

Heh. Kill me.

'No,' Lolly snapped sarcastically, 'Michael Jackson.' Who is a bit of both – 'Of COURSE a girl.'

'Please!' he leapt at Lolly's feet, and began kissing them, totally giving Paul a run for his money in the foot fetish department, 'Please, ANYTHING to feel the lips of a woman – preferably not you because, as afore mentioned, I prefer my ladies nerdy and not fat – '

YOU'RE _PUSHING IT_ –

'Anything,' he said desperately, clinging to her legs in plea, 'For I fear my virginity will only last for so long in this urine-ponged place. And what a sucky way for an eighteen year old to lose his Vs? To a horny child-rapist from Tennessee? Can you LIVE with yourself, fat stranger, knowing that you have subjected me to that?'

Lolly looked down at the dweeb who was holding her knees so. 'Erm . . . can you . . . let go? You kind of . . . stink.'

Meducci scrambled away. 'Anything.'

Lolly put her breasts away in frustration. That obviously hadn't worked. Ha. Fat stranger? What an ass.

'Fine,' she said. 'But my victim isn't going to be happy. In fact, she'll give me the glaring of an eternity.'

Panting, Michael Meducci said, 'As long as she's a she, I'm good.'

Ugh.

8 -

With another amazing display of witchcrap – hehehe . . . wannabe witch and all – Lolly magically transported Michael to the front door of her next victim. Using her ingredients, eye of newt and testicle of Hector – which has several wart-inducing properties – she made Meducci's horrid whiff go away. The fact that he now smelt like a drag queen who lived in a bong was obviously not a turn off.

Cough.

It may be kind of sus for an intelligent, careful thinking author like Lolly to set a homicidal psychopath on one of her gentle readers.

. . . But this is fiction, so shut your face.

As Michael approacheth'd the mystery person's window, he suddenly realized something. EVERYONE always went through the window. So, thinking he'd be different, he whistled a happy tune, and within no time, he was surrounded be an assortment of reindeer. Picking the one with the brightest nose, whose name was Archibald, he climbed upon him, trying to ignore the warm, nice feeling he suddenly felt in his pants, and then Archibald flew him upon the roof.

Certain that this girl would be quite happy with the present HE had to offer, he climbed down her chimney, which isn't as easy as Santa makes it out to be. He got 7lbs of soot in various places on his prison-happy body, along the ridges of his now disintegrating abdominal muscles, and up his nose, so his nostril hairs grew a few inches.

Stumbling on the couch, he stole his way up to the mysterious girl's room, leaving trails of soot from the fireplace on the carpet.

What a dirty little bugger . . .

Pfft.

As he crept into a bedroom, he saw a sleeping figure on a pink bed-spreaded bed. A wobbly grin came onto his face; the same one he had when he had finally finished his type A5DF89 computer chip. With outstretched arms, he went to pull off the girl's covers, humming _You Make Me Wanna La-La_ under his breath, followed by a chorus of _I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt._

However, Nicole felt fingers on her shoulder and started SCREAMING.

As you'd do, when a soot-covered fictional entity attempts to touch you.

Mike Meducci, of course, stumbled back in shock. 'Shhh!' he said, 'I just wanna La-La!'

Nicole kept on screaming like a psycho-freak, all the way to her CD Player, where she fumbled for a CD.

'AAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAH!'

. . . Pretty annoying.

She stopped momentarily. 'Take THAT, you stupid Suze-Stalker! I mean – following her into VICTORIA'S SECRET? That's just GROSS. And then trying to KILL HER? YOU FAGGOT! Pfft!'

She spat on him, as she quickly inserted the silver compact disk into the CD player.

And it began . . .

_. . . When I dance they call me Macarena  
And the boys they say that I'm buena  
They all want me, they can't have me  
So they all come and dance beside me  
Move with me jam with me  
And if your good I take you home with me . . . _

'NOOOOOO!' Michael shrieked in terror, 'NO! You found my weakness! NO! Aaargh – '

_A la tuhuelpa legria Macarena,  
Que tuhuelce paralla legria cosabuena,   
A la tuhuelpa legria macarena _

_Eeeeeh, macarena,  
_

His skin began boiling. His arms jutted forward one by one, rotated, moved jerkily behind his head, against his will. Then, to his hips. He simmered, and bubbled, and pus began oozing from his every inch. More so in the downstairs region. He circled his pelvis, squealing for mercy.

'NOOOOOOOO! NOT THE _MACARENA!_'

_Now don't you worry 'bout my boy friend  
The boy whose name is Nicorino  
I don't want him, 'couldn't stand him  
He was no good so I - hahaaaa  
Now, come on, what was I supposed to do?   
He was outta town and his two friends were soooooo fine_

Nicole just stood there, her long hair draping her shoulders. She'd stopped screaming at least. Thank God.

I mean . . . this FREAK had been THIS CLOSE to kissing her. On LOLLY'S COMMAND?

Nicole was going to brutally assassinate that Flashlight-writing bitch.

_A la tuhuelpa legria Macarena,  
Que tuhuelce paralla legria cosabuena,   
A la tuhuelpa legria macarena _

_Eeeeeh, Macarena._

And with that . . . Michael Meducci screamed his last, 'I'M MELTING! I'M MEEEEEEEEELTING! OH, WHAT A WORLD, WHAT A WORLD . . . ' before oozing into a puddle of a slimy greeny-white substance on the floor.

Poor kittykatangel watched the ordeal, looking vacant.

Of course, it was then that Spike – the hideously fat cat – leaped through the window.

Nicole caught him with a squeak of delight. 'Oooh! Spikey! YAY! I'm going to keep you here, because surely Jesse'll come looking for his baby. Aww, aren't you a cutie little – OW!'

Spike had scratched her jugular vein open.

**SHOCK!**

Nicole started losing blood. It just SPLURTED out. Red, everywhere . . . it was gross. Spike was cackling. Nicole was shrieking.

God, enough blood, Nicole? What, did you get blood transfusions that weren't meant for you or something?

She collapsed to the floor, dead from blood loss.

When her ghost rose from her body, she started swearing violently like a potty-mouthed sailor, cursing felines everywhere, and Michael Meducci, and LOLLY, GOD DAMN IT, who is of course, writing everything that is happening, and is damned well enjoying it.

It's been a while since Lolly's written a nice bloodshed, you see.

Alas . . . our favourite fat author has her pangs of guilt.

I mean, Nicole's a NICE chick. Who'd want to kill her?

(A lot of people.)

Okay, I mean, who'd want to kill her in THAT way?

(More than a lot of people - )

OKAY, OKAY. She's got ENEMIES, okay! Well, I mean . . . how would THAT look n a tombstone?

Nicole Swizzlestick . . .

1905-2005 . . .

Died from stupid fictional cat

Who tore jugular vein.

Lots of blood. Gory.

Made-for-TV horror death.

Kind of funny. Snigger

Hehehe . . . good times. I mean - COUGH sorry.

So, due to conscience yelling out _YOU SUCK!_ repeatedly in Lolly's head, she decided to give Nicole a nice end.

Well, as nice as Lolly can give . . .

Randomly, Nicole's ghost saw a bright, bright light.

_Go to the light, Nicole . . . you know you want to . . . you want fries with that . . . ?_

In awe of the radiance, she looked mistily at the luminance. 'Whoa,' she sighed. 'Perdy . . . '

When she reached the end, she was suddenly in a hallway of doors, with knee-high cold mist and coldly winking stars above in an inky black sky. Looking down and seeing that she was in her Elmo pajamas, she swore again. Great. Meeting the maker in a SESAME STREE GET-UP.

Class act? NO.

She randomly picked a door. 'Here goes nothin',' she muttered helplessly.

BOOM! MAJOR FLASH HERE. SPECIAL EFFECTS OF FANFICTION TO THE MAX.

Somewhere in Australia . . . _a random kangaroo died . . ._

Upon entering, she looked around and grinned.

'SCORE!'

T'was, of course, Fortunaschwein.

Flashlight-Paul, dressed in a nothing but a leather thong, was swinging around a whip seductively.

'Kittykatangel . . . I've been . . . _expecting you_ . . . '

Nicole giggled in pure glee.

**THE END. **


End file.
